


Thou Hast Wounded My Heart, My Sister

by Alixtii



Series: Yeshua and Ya'akov [1]
Category: Christian Bible (New Testament), Christian Myth & History
Genre: Christian Themes, F/M, Genderswap, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:19:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alixtii/pseuds/Alixtii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Thou hast wounded my heart, my sister, my spouse, thou hast wounded my heart with one of thy eyes, and with one hair of thy neck." Song of Solomon 4:9.</p><p>When Yeshua wakes up from a nightmare, it falls to her older half-brother Ya'akov to comfort her. Incest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thou Hast Wounded My Heart, My Sister

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ari (wisdomeagle)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisdomeagle/gifts).



You wake, as you do so many nights, to the sound of Yeshua's screams. Miriam, you know, will not wake; your stepmother can sleep through anything. So you rise from your bed and make your way to your half-sister, as she tosses and turns in her own bed, crying out in terror. "“Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?!" she cries out. That's Yeshua, you think, quoting the Scriptures even in her nightmares.

"Yeshua," you say, as you shake her awake. "Yeshua, it's just a dream."

At last, she stops tossing, opening her eyes and looking at you groggily. She brings a hand to her brow as if searching for something upon her forehead. "Ya'akov?" she asks, uncertainly.

"I'm here," you reassure her, holding her tight. "You're safe."

She says nothing for several moments, resting in your arms. She's still breathing heavy from the nightmare. At last you ask, "Was it the same dream as the other nights?"

"I don't know," she says. "I can't remember." She never can, once you waken her. You wonder what it could possibly be that haunts her so in her dreams. Yes, the dreams started around the same time the two of you lost your father, but Yosef died quietly, in his sleep. 

"It's alright," you tell her. "It's not real."

"Isn't it?" she asks, holding you tightly. "I wonder sometimes."

"They're just dreams," you tell her. "I won't let anything happen to you." 

She looks up at you and smiles. "I could call upon my Abba," she says, "and he would send twelve legions of angels. But I'd rather have you as my protector."

You kiss her lightly on the forehead. "Always, my sister."

She wraps her arms around you and pulls her toward her, brings her lips to your lips. You pull away, in shock.

"It is forbidden by the Law for a man to lie with his father's daughter," you remind Yeshua. "Would you abolish the Law?"

The look she gives you stares into your soul, as if you have asked something so incredibly foolish she cannot quite believe it. "No," she answers at last. "I have not come to abolish the Law. I have come to _fulfill_ it." She twists in your arm and pushes you down onto the bed, then kisses you again, her tongue pushing its way past your lips into your mouth. You should resist, you think, should throw her off you and get away, prevent her from sullying herself in this manner. And yet you don't, won't, can't. 

You find yourself kissing her back.

Her hands are busy untying your robe, undressing you. She breaks the kiss for a moment to pull her own nightshirt over her head and toss it aside. You look at her, still so young, and yet at fourteen years a woman, no younger than her mother was when she came to your father, pregnant, and threw herself upon his mercy. She lowers herself onto you, taking you inside herself, piercing her maidenhead, enveloping your manhood with her own sex. "Yeshua," you whisper, even as you know there is no need to be quiet; if Yeshua's screams of ecstatic terror would not wake Miriam, then neither will any cries of no less ecstatic pleasure. Her breasts press against your chest as she rocks her body up and down against you, and moral qualms and worries about the Law evaporate within you within her as you focus your attention on her, just her, on how right she feels around you and on top of you--and then for a moment it's reversed and it feels as if she's the one inside you, deep within, in your heart, your soul. You feel her goodness, her purity, her love burning inside you, and it washes you clean in paroxysms of purifying fire, a holocaust of need and desire and pleasure and the promise of fulfillment. She is your salvation, you think, as you come, crying out her name. 

* * *

"When are you going to marry off your sister?" asks Yhuda. His eyes rake over Yeshua's body with such unconcealed covetousness that it takes all of your composure to keep from betraying yourself. 

"She does not wish to be married," you say, "and I have no desire to marry her off against her will." It's even true, so far as it goes. There is no reason to tell Yhuda of all the times you and Yeshua have lain in bed as man and wife rather than brother and sister, how you would not willingly give her up to any man if it meant losing her for yourself.

"Is this true, Yeshua?" Yhuda asks her, raising his voice. "You have no desire for a husband, truly?"

Yeshua raises her gaze to meet his, and her resolve is unflinching. "It is not my Abba's will."

Yhuda just laughs. "Your father is dead, girl."

Yeshua's composure doesn't change. "My Abba is everliving," she says. "Is it not written that a man should leave his parents and cleave to a woman, and become one flesh with her?"

"It is," agrees Yhuda. "Which is why you ought to marry, child. Come, I could provide well for you."

"My Abba has sent me from him to become one flesh with all mankind," Yeshua says, in that way of hers that makes it seem as if it is your fault, not hers, for your not being able to understand what she is saying. "And so all men shall be my bridegroom."

Yhuda bursts out laughing at this. "Is your sister not satisfied enough with the prospect of one husband, Ya'akov," he asks, "that she must take all mankind to bed?"

That's more than you can take, and you can feel your hand shaping itself into a fist. Yeshua must see it too, for she reaches out, puts a hand on your shoulder. "Peace, brother," she says, and you relax, instantly, unable to deny Yeshua anything. "Let's go," she says, and leads you away, back home, and you follow. When you are halfway home, and there is no one in sight in any direction, she turns around and, rising onto her tiptoes, kisses you quickly.

"We cannot continue like this," you say, not wanting to say the words but unable to deny the reality. "Already jealousies and tempers threaten to betray us. If we continue, we will be caught out for sure."

Yeshua nods, her face the familiar combination of innocence and seriousness which would look strange on any other face but hers. "My time has come at last," she agrees. "I head to the Yarden River, to be baptised by my cousin Yohana. Will you follow me, brother?"

"To the ends of the Earth, sister," you tell her, and you know it to be true.

* * *

You find Yohana standing knee-deep in the Yarden, baptising two older men. She is naked, and although she is only a distant cousin to Yeshua, you are struck by the family resemblance, even though her skin is darker from the constant exposure to the sun, and her hair is long and dirty and disheveled. She is fifteen years old, you know, only a few months older than Yeshua, yet there is something in her eyes which makes her seem older. She is a wise woman, a wild woman, a witch. You think of Lady Chokmah in the Scriptures, guiding the tribes of Israel through the desert, through the rising and falling fortunes of human history--always leading, unable to be led, unable to be tamed. 

Yeshua pauses at the bank of the Yarden and quickly removes her clothing, steps into the river. You follow her example, painfully conscious of your erect penis on display for Yeshua, for Yohana, for these men who must be at least three times the age of either of the girls. 

"Yeshua!" Yohana greets her cousin, and then the two girls embrace, kiss each other in a way you cannot describe as cousinly, causing your penis to throb at the sight.

"We have come to be baptised, cousin," Yeshua explains.

A frown passes over Yohana's face, but she simply turns to you, and asks, "Are you ready to repent of your sins?"

You pause, looking from Yohana to Yeshua. "I am not sure I know what is sin, anymore," you admit at last. "All I know is that I will not, cannot, turn away from Yeshua."

Yohana smiles. "That will do," she says, and commences to baptise you, immersing you in the Yarden's waters. She turns to Yeshua, and pauses, the frown once again returning to her features. "Cousin," she says, "it is I who should be baptised by you."

Yeshua just smiles. "Let it be this way for now, cousin," she says, in that gently commanding tone you know so well, and Yohana nods, no more able to refuse Yeshua than you are. She immerses Yeshua, and then--

And then there is nothing.

* * *

Consciousness of the world slowly returns. "Yeshua?" you ask, and then the world gains focus and you realize that, no, it is not Yeshua who is kneeling over you, but Yohana.

"She has gone into the wilderness," Yohana says softly. "Do not fret, she will be safe there, but there are things which she must do which she can only face alone. She will return."

You do not doubt Yohana's words, and you realize that it is because she speaks with the same gently voice of confidence as does Yeshua. The voice of prophecy.

You look around yourself, take stock of the situation. You and Yohana are alone, on the bank of the Yarden. "What happened?" you ask.

"I cannot say," Yohana says. "I can only describe to you how I experienced it. It was as if the heavens themselves broke open, and there was a voice, but not the voice of any human man or woman. Perhaps it was the voice of one of Adonai's messengers. It said, 'You have pleased me well, my beloved daughter.' And she raised her eyes to the heavens, and said, 'I follow your spirit into the wilderness, Abba, for the sake of your righteousness.' She turned to me then and said, 'Take care of Ya'akov for me, cousin,' and then, in an instant, she was gone."

"What do I do now?" you wonder aloud.

"You await her return," Yohana answers. "And you let me take care of you, as your sister commanded." She bends down and kisses you, and the kiss reminds you so much of Yeshua's kisses, firm and commanding and hungry, and her body reminds you so much of Yeshua's body, as it presses down against you and takes you inside of it, and if it is Yeshua's name you whisper as the two of you make love on the bank of the Yarden, Yohana shows no sign of taking offense.


End file.
